


Falling through the years (Unknowingly, we fell)

by initial_a



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/initial_a/pseuds/initial_a
Summary: Doyoung's always had two brothers, until he realizes he only needs The One.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 24
Kudos: 166





	Falling through the years (Unknowingly, we fell)

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a 5k fic but things kinda spiralled out of control + came out spicier than i first planned but still! it's a labour of love so i hope you enjoy!
> 
> (also, thank you, A, for all your indulgent answers to my randomest questions and constant whining about this fic. once again, you're the real MVA!)

Doyoung slams the now-empty shot glass hard on the bar table, harder than he probably would have if he was sober, but he isn’t; hasn’t been since that last Jaegerbomb he had downed a while ago. The vodka burns his throat and he revels in the way it leaves a hot trail down his insides. 

It’s been a long time since Doyoung’s let himself get drunk, and definitely the first time he’s gotten _this_ drunk, but he’s just had his heart broken, okay, so fuck off. 

Heartbroken. Unfuckingbelievable.

Three years. They had been together for three fucking years and all Doyoung got was a text. A bloody text. A bloody fucking text! Doyoung doesn’t know if the proper reaction is to aggressively swipe at a table full of expensive glassware, or fall down to his knees sobbing in the pouring rain, so he’s settled for an in between: drowning out his thoughts with copious amounts of alcohol.

A pair of hands reach out to steady Doyoung before he even realises he’s lost his balance.

”Whoa, careful there,” a baritone voice soothes in Doyoung’s ear, “you alright?”

Doyoung peers at the face that saved him from an epic face plant to the sticky floor of the club, “oh, you’re cute,” Doyoung slurs out, “I mean, I am off-my-rocker drunk right now but you’re like 26/10 cute so even without beer goggles you would prolly be at least 9/10 cute and that’s really cute.”

The cutie chuckles and thanks be to the gods of alcohol, Doyoung reaches out to poke the dimple that appears on his cheek with absolutely no hesitance. “Prettyyyyyyy,” Doyoung enthuses.

“You are so drunk,” the cutie chuckles, “please tell me you’re not here alone,” and immediately Doyoung’s brought back to the mile long text that’s sitting in his phone. “Yes, I’m alone. Alone and lonely,” Doyoung sulks, “you know why? Because my boyfriend broke up with me. Because I’m too uptight, too serious, too intense and singularly too much and not enough at the same time.” Doyoung’s hand motions to get a refill but his fingers get snatched away in mid-air before the bartender can even glance his way.

“I really don’t think you should drink anymore, Doyoung, and for the record, he’s a total jerk for saying those horrible things to you. You are none of those things.”

“Ha! If only he said it to my face, then at least it would have given me the chance to punch him right in the eyeball. It wasn’t even a nice eyeball anyway! Stupid ugly eyeball coward!”

“Wait, he didn’t break up with you in person? What the fuck? Did he at least call?”

“Nope! He sent me a text! Wanna see?”

Doyoung is glad he’s got Face ID on his phone because he doesn’t think he’s got a lot of control on his muscles at the moment—maybe the cute stranger is right, he should probably not drink anymore. 

“This is horrible, Doyoung,” he grimaces, “and very very cowardly. He doesn’t deserve you and you definitely do not deserve to be treated like this.”

Doyoung blinks, taken aback by the kindness of his words and the sincerity in his voice. “You should really kiss me right now,” Doyoung blurts out and wow, vodka’s being a true wingman right now. 

“Whoa what?!” the cutie splutters, hands coming up defensively when Doyoung makes to lean in and capture those plush lips between his. 

Doyoung whines but is undeterred in his quest for a good smooch. They always did say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone. 

“Come on! Kiss me!”

“No!”

“Why not! You’re cute and I’m drunk!”

“No! There will be absolutely no kissing, Kim Dongyoung! I can’t kiss you!”

“Why? Am I not cute enough for you? Am I “not cute” in addition to ”having a stick up my ass”?”

“What?! No! You’re cute okay, fuck! You’re very cute. But! No! Kissing! And no sticks either!”

“Aw, are you one of those fabled gentlemen who like to wine and dine before you fuck? Because I am definitely not opposed to a glass of red.”

“Kim Dongyoung, you definitely should not be drinking anything other than water right now.”

Actually, now that Doyoung thinks about it, he doesn’t think that his heart is supposed to be hammering against his chest this quickly. Neither does he recall seeing three DJ stages in the club earlier. Oh dear. 

“I don’t feel so good...” Doyoung mumbles. 

“Doyoung? Doyoung? Holy s—!”

🐱🐰

When Doyoung cracks opens his eyes, the first thing he thinks is, “where am I?”, and takes heart that he can vaguely make out the ugly bedside lamp that had been a housewarming gift from his best friend, Ten. The second thing he thinks is (and he means this with all his heart), “just leave me here to dieeeeeeeeee,” because he feels like he has sledgehammers like woodpeckers drilling the inside of his head, and his mouth feels like the Sahara desert moulded over. 

Why had no one reminded him hangovers get worse with age?

Wait, that’s right, because he didn’t tell anyone that he was out mixing his alcohols and drowning his sorrows. Rookie mistake, Kim Dongyoung.

Which reminds him, how exactly did he get home last night? Or rather, what happened last night? The last thing he remembers is that first shot of Absolut (which tasted like ass). He doesn’t remember how many more he drank after that but he’s sure his wallet will remember. If he still has his wallet. If he still has his pants. Is he wearing any pants? Doyoung groans and barely manages to curb the wave of nausea that hits when he moves to look down. 

Okay, he does not have pants on. This day just gets better and better. Well, at least he’s on his own bed in his own home. Albeit with absolutely no recollection on how he got from shitfaced drunk at the club to suicidally hungover at home, but you’ve got to be thankful for the small things. 

He nearly pukes out his heart when the door to his room slams open, both from the unexpected intrusion and the resounding bang his door makes when it hits the wall. 

Doyoung groans in relief when a familiar face comes into view, “fucking hell, hyung, can you be any noisier?”

“You’re lucky I haven’t drop-kicked you back to college, you idiot. Did three years of frat parties not teach you to never get drunk alone? Broken heart or not, you never ever get drunk at a club alone. Never,” Gongmyoung leans down to flick Doyoung in his forehead, right between his eyes, “ever!”

“Ow, hyung, you’re being too loud, can’t you just let me die in peace,” Doyoung whines, trying to bury himself deeper into his sheets. 

Gongmyoung lets out the most long-suffering sounding sigh ever and Doyoung’s glad his hyung can’t see him rolling his eyes or he’ll definitely get his ass beat. “Come on, get up and get dressed. I’m making haejangguk and you better not let my efforts go cold, brat.”

It takes a lot longer than usual for Doyoung to wash up—he had to pause a few times to swallow down the waves of nausea threatening to break free—but when he finally does shuffle into his kitchen slash dining room, he finds a steaming bowl of haejangguk ready for him, as promised. 

He knows that there are plenty of people who wax poetic about fry-ups or gatorade as hangover cures, but for Doyoung, nothing beats haejangguk, and he’s proven right when the warmth from his first few mouthfuls settle his stomach and muffles the pounding in his head. 

“Thanks for this, hyung,” Doyoung conveys, “I really needed it.”

Gongmyoung grunts as he ladles out the rest of the stew into an empty container, which roughly translates to “you’re welcome” in sibling-speak. “How did you find me yesterday anyway? I didn’t tell anyone where I was going and it’s hardly your scene.”

“Me? I didn’t find you, I only got here this morning.”

Doyoung freezes with spoon in mid-air, “wait, you weren’t the one who brought me home?” Doyoung asks, eyes wide, “then why are you here? How did you know what happened?”

Gongmyoung sniggers as he places the now-filled containers into Doyoung’s fridge. “Wow, you really don’t remember anything, do you?” He reaches into his back pocket for his phone, unlocking it before scrolling through it for something. 

“Here, this might help you unravel some unwanted memories.”

“What’s this?” Doyoung takes the offered phone, frowning when he sees it’s showing a chat log with Youngho hyung, “why are you showing me this?”

“Read it, you’ll see,” Gongmyoung smirks, already turning away to wash up.

> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _uhm bro look who i found???_
> 
> _[image attached]_
> 
> is that dongyoung?!
> 
> WTF
> 
> he alive?
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _i think???_
> 
> _he’s flat out smashed bro haha idt he even recognised me_
> 
> he's alone?!!!!!!!
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _i think???_
> 
> i’m going to kill him
> 
> text me the address
> 
> i’m picking him up then i’m throwing him off the bridge
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _uhm bro wasn’t it date night tonight?_
> 
> _maybe text me doyoung’s address and i’ll get him home instead_
> 
> no
> 
> tell me where to find him so i can go over there and kill him 
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _bro i’m done with my set anyway_
> 
> _and didn’t you mention that his apartment’s just a couple of streets away from me?_

“Youngho hyung brought me home?” Doyoung shouts, “he was at the club?”

“Yup, there was an event for something or the other. And good thing too, or who knows what would’ve happened to your drunk ass.”

> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _made it to doyoung’s but uhmmmmm_
> 
> _[image attached]_
> 
> no omg
> 
> johnny
> 
> john
> 
> johnny james jonathan the third
> 
> please tell me dongyoung did not puke all over you
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _idk what else to tell you bro_
> 
> DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _to his credit he only threw up after we got out of the uber_
> 
> _thank god_
> 
> _he got some vomit on him as well tho_
> 
> just fill up his tub with cold water and throw him in
> 
> that’s what i would do
> 
> _**johnny 🦾:**_
> 
> _haha i’m sure i’m sure_
> 
> _i’m gonna have to grab a change of clothes - hope that’s okay_
> 
> go nuts bro
> 
> take everything he’s got
> 
> it’s what he deserves 

“I puked all over Youngho hyung?” Doyoung chokes. Gongmyoung actually laughs - the audacity - even as Doyoung sputters and flaps around in utter embarrassment. 

“You should text Johnny and thank him. God knows what might have happened to you if he wasn’t at the right place at the right time. And that’s not even counting the fact that he actually tried to help clean you up even after you threw up on him.”

Doyoung gulps, “I will, I will. Of course I will. Just—let me get over the fact that I threw up on Youngho hyung. Oh dear god, why did I drink so much?”

“We still need to talk about that, by the way. Johnny didn’t give me any specifics but he said that you showed him the text and that by the third line in he wanted to punch your boyfriend’s teeth in.” 

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“Jackass ex-boyfriend.”

Doyoung knows it’s the truth; but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. That he spent the last three years of his life dating a jerk. That he wasted three years of his life bending over backwards trying to please him and convince himself that they were good together. He knows all that, yet it still hurts. The rejection. The knowledge that he was tried and tested and after three years, was found lacking. 

Doyoung knows that the insecurity must show on his face in the pitying grimace that Gongmyoung fails to hide. “You know that it’s not your fault, right? That he’s the jackass and you’ve done nothing to deserve this bullshit.”

“I know, I know,” Doyoung sighs, “in my head, I know that I’m better off without him and that he’s an asshole for not even bothering to break up with me in person. I know all this,” Doyoung pauses, taking a fortifying breath in because he can feel the unshed tears gathering at the back of his throat. “It’s just my h— the rest of me needs time to catch up.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I guess. Sorry for being pushy,” Gongmyoung scratches his head, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, I’m supposed to run some errands but if you want, I can stay and we can, I don’t know, watch movies or something?”

“It’s okay, hyung, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you should be alone now, to be honest. I can stay and we can watch mindless reality TV?”

“Really, it’s okay, hyung, go to whatever you have to. I’ll text Ten and ask him to come over; he’ll be more than happy to watch binge watch 90-day fiancé with me.”

Forget about Ten though, the first thing Doyoung needs to do is apologise to Youngho. Dear lord, Doyoung can’t believe he actually threw up on Youngho. He can’t even imagine what he would begin to do if _Ten_ threw up on him, let alone a pesky younger brother. Gross. And if Doyoung wasn’t mistaken, he’s pretty goddang sure that Youngho was wearing one of those expensive Balenciaga sneakers too. God, Doyoung really hopes vomit doesn’t stain. 

> Youngho hyung? It’s Doyoung. 
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:**_
> 
> _doyoung! you’re alive!_
> 
> _you must be in a world of pain right now haha_
> 
> Yeah, it’s not too bad though. Hyung came over this morning and made some haejangguk. 
> 
> He was the one who told me you brought me home? 
> 
> I’m really sorry to have troubled you. I’m not usually such a mess, I promise. 
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _haha it’s okay don’t worry! you’re allowed to drown your sorrows or whatever you need to cope y’know_
> 
> _but seriously though please don’t ever get drunk outside alone again_
> 
> Yes, I know. Hyung gave me an earful about it too. I promise that was the first and last time I’ll ever do that again. 
> 
> Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever drank so much before. I don’t remember a single thing from last night.
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _seriously?_
> 
> Yes. Hyung did tell me I threw up on you though. Sorry about that.
> 
> Why? 
> 
> Oh no. Did something happen? Did I do something even worse?
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _idk i guess it’s all relative??_
> 
> _you were pretty much out cold until you woke up and threw up and that seemed to_
> 
> _give you a new lease of life?? almost??_
> 
> _which was kinda good because at least i didn't have your dead weight to wrangle with when i was trying to clean up_
> 
> ...I hear a 'but' coming.
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _yeah_
> 
> _well_
> 
> _but then this happened_
> 
> _[image attached]_
> 
> _i think i’m gonna have to call you baby vamp from now on haha_

When the picture finally loads, Doyoung promptly drops his phone on his face because what the actual fuck?!????!? Doyoung scrambles to pick up his phone again because surely his hungover eyes were playing tricks on him? The photo is a little blurry but Doyoung can definitely still make out that it’s a picture of Youngho’s bare torso, with half a dozen or so love bites littered around his collarbones. 

> No Fucking Way. 
> 
> ...please tell me that you’re playing a prank on me. 
> 
> Please tell me that that’s not you.
> 
> Please tell me that I was not the one who gave you those hickies. 
> 
> This is not funny, hyung, PLEASE!!!
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _hahahahahahahahahahahaha_
> 
> _i could do that but..._
> 
> _i would be lying haha_
> 
> Nooooooooooooo 
> 
> I am so so so SO very sorry, hyung! 

Embarrassment wrenches at his insides, Doyoung can feel his face heating up, and he curls up into a ball, squeezing onto himself so tightly as if he did it hard enough he would squeeze himself into oblivion. ”Fuck! I am never drinking again,” he mutters to himself, trying to think of something, anything else other than the fact that he. fucking. gave. his brother’s. best. friend. a row. of. hickies. 

> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _hahahahaha it’s okay! you were drunk and like you said, you don’t remember a thing! so it’s not your fault!_
> 
> _honestly, i shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place_
> 
> _i’m sorry!_

If Doyoung were in a manga, there would be squiggly heat waves drawn all over his face and especially the tips of his ears right now because he’s literally boiling over with embarrassment as he (extremely belatedly) remembers that one of the main reasons why he’s never gotten drunk alone is because he’s an extremely affectionate and clingy drunk. Doyoung can’t count the number of times in college that Ten and Kun had to bodily wrench a whiny Doyoung away from drunken make outs with random strangers, bless their (but mainly Kun’s) hearts. 

> No no no, it’s all my fault, I’m sure. 
> 
> I tend to get kind of...clingy? When I’m drunk? 
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _“kind of” is definitely an understatement hahaha_
> 
> _who knew there was so much strength in those skinny limbs of yours hahaha_

And Doyoung wants to Die. It’s embarrassing enough to throw himself into a stranger’s arms and maul them like some horny teenager hopped up on alcohol, but it’s a whole other thing when that stranger is your brother’s best friend. God, Doyoung really wants to dig a hole in the ground and curl up and die in there. Before he can second-guess himself, Doyoung presses on the phone icon next to Youngho’s name — he needs Youngho to hear how sorry he is even though he also really wants to scream at the top of his lungs while banging his head on any and every hard surface available. 

“Doyoung?”

“Hyunggggggg,” Doyoung doesn’t mean to whine but he can’t help it with how terrible he feels, “I’m really really really sorry!”

Doyoung can clearly hear Youngho laughing over the phone at the pathetic tinge that took over his voice, and Doyoung can feel his stomach twist. “Don’t laugh! I’m being serious!”

“It’s fine, baby vamp, honest,” Youngho teases but at least has the decency let his loud laughter quiet down to a few low chuckles. Doyoung’s face warms even further at the new nickname.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Doyoung mumbles over the phone, thunking his forehead against his curled up knees. 

“You were off your face drunk; it happens.”

“But still!” Doyoung groans, fighting the urge to flail his limbs around like an angry toddler, “it was bad enough when hyung said I threw up all over you. And now you’re telling me I basically marked you up like some horny vampire?”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

“Hyung!” Doyoung pseudo-yells, much to the amusement of Youngho hyung, if his rising laughter is any indication. 

“Relax, Doyoung. I’m telling you, it’s fine. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh; you’ll see,” Youngho says reassuringly. 

Somehow it’s easy to talk to Youngho, even if before last night they hadn’t spoken to each other since, well since Gongmyoung moved out for college, Doyoung guesses. When Gongmyoung was still living at home, Youngho was a constant in the Kim family home. He had his own designated seat at the dining table, his own toothbrush in their shared bathroom, and the three of them often ganged up against their parents when they went out for a friendly game of bowling. Then Gongmyoung left for college, taking Youngho along with him, and Doyoung went from having two brothers to none. It was so matter-of-fact; an event that was certain and sure, that it hadn’t really dawned on Doyoung until now how much he missed Youngho. 

And after they hang up about 15 minutes later, they hang up with plans for Doyoung to treat Youngho to a fancy dinner out, both as a way for Doyoung to make it up to Youngho, and to catch up on all the years lost in between. 

🐱🐰

It’s about three hours before they’re due to meet up for dinner before Doyoung finally gets over himself and texts Youngho.

> Hyung, I’m really sorry to do this to you so last minute, but can we please reschedule?

Doyoung stares at the chat window, willing Youngho to see his message and reply - it’s such a big cop out and Doyoung can feel the guilt and anxiety eat away at his insides, but just the thought of getting dressed and actually going out and being surrounded by strangers makes his palms sweaty and his stomach sink to the bottom of his feet. He hates himself for this - this stupid reaction from merely catching a glimpse of his ex - but it’s happening and he just can’t help it. 

Mercifully, three dots appear and Doyoung breathes a sigh of relief - at least this means he won’t have to go out there and face people.

> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _sure, no worries at all, just let me know when’s best for you_
> 
> _you ok?_

Damn. He was hoping Youngho wouldn’t dig any deeper and just accept his question at face value. There’s nothing stopping Doyoung from inventing an easy white lie to deflect Youngho’s question, but Doyoung’s never been the kind of person who lied. Especially to people who happen to be his brother’s best friend.

> I saw my ex today and the last thing I want to do right now is go out.
> 
> Which is really unfair to you, I know.
> 
> I’ve spent most of the afternoon trying to talk myself out of it, but I just can’t today.
> 
> I would force myself to but I would be terribly unpleasant company and I don’t want to put you through that either. 
> 
> I’m really truly sorry, hyung. 
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _so you’re gonna stay at home?_
> 
> Yes.
> 
> _**Youngho hyung:** _
> 
> _if you don’t wanna go out, then i can go over?? we can order in pizza and you can pay which is basically the same thing as buying me dinner_
> 
> _only that i can have said dinner in the comfort of my sweatpants and hoodie_

Doyoung can feel the corner of his lips lift as messages from Youngho come in. Youngho is right, it technically counts as him buying him dinner, but he also won’t need to change out of his ratty t-shirt or paste on a smile and deal with incompetent waitstaff in a loud and bustling restaurant full of loud hangry people.

> Sounds like a plan. 

When Youngho arrives, he doesn’t arrive empty handed, which kind of defeats the purpose of Doyoung buying him dinner as a token of his gratitude, but it is a bag full of soju and beer so Doyoung doesn’t bring up the flaw in the logic and just gratefully takes the bag from Youngho. 

A large pizza, a pack of fried chicken and a few bottles of soju and cans of beer later, the both of them are sprawled across Doyoung’s sofa, limbs askew and halfway into Avengers: Endgame. 

It might be the alcohol talking, but Doyoung finds that he’s really enjoyed Youngho’s company tonight. He had introduced Doyoung to a new pizza place (they had deep dish pizza which was highly indulgent but also very delicious), conversation ran smooth, reducing Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Evans to mere background noise. 

It might also be because this feels so familiar, just like those days back in high school, when Doyoung gleefully wormed his way in between Gongmyoung and Youngho on the couch, watching them play Mario Kart, waiting until one of them took pity on him and let him play for a game or two. 

“Youngho hyung?” Doyoung feels more than sees Youngho turn to face him, head tilted in question. “Thank you, for that night. I don’t remember much but I do know I’m terribly needy drunk so I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But still, thank you for taking care of me. And sorry, about the, you know, bites?” Doyoung can feel his entire face go red, can feel his ears heat up as he resolutely stares at Star Lord dance to ‘Come and Get Your Love’.

Doyoung nearly jumps when Youngho places a warm hand on his thigh, thumb soothing back and forth near his outer thigh. Doyoung’s head whips to the side, making eye contact with Youngho a split second before Youngho’s eyes slide back on to the TV screen. “You’ll be alright, Dongyoung.”

🐱🐰

Doyoung doesn’t know if Youngho remembers or even realised, but he was the first person he ever came out to. Even before Gongmyoung, who still doesn’t know that he wasn’t the first one Doyoung told. Not that it was a conscious decision on Doyoung’s part to bestow upon Youngho the honour of his awkward coming out, because it sort of just slipped out, really. 

Doyoung remembers though, because it was his first ever heartbreak, which in and of itself made him feel pretty goddamn shitty, but it was also 1) his first boyfriend, 2) actually, his first relationship in general, 3) also a secret relationship because no one knew he was gay, or dating, for that matter — all of which made trying to get over his breakup really really Really Fucking Hard. 

Which is why he was sitting outside in their home balcony, glass doors closed firmly behind him as he hugged his knees close to himself and let his tears fall freely. He remembers thinking about how unlovable he was and how rejected and unwanted he felt, and how lonely he was, sitting outside his own goddamn home, crying over a stupid boy who probably couldn’t care less. 

It was probably this tsunami of thoughts rushing in his head, rendering him too distracted to hear the glass doors crack open, to hear Youngho slip outside in his bare feet, to hear him pause behind Doyoung before deciding to wordlessly crouch beside him. Doyoung jumped when he feels a hand on his shoulder, he remembers whipping his head violently up at the sudden and unexpected intrusion, then crying even harder when he realized it was Youngho. 

An “oh,” escaped Youngho’s mouth before careful, warm arms gently manoeuvred Doyoung into Youngho’s embrace, and it’s seconds before Doyoung got the entirety of the front of Youngho’s sleep shirt wet. Doyoung wound his spindly arms around Youngho’s torso, blindly seeking the comfort that his heartbroken teenage self so desperately needed, even as Youngho tucked Doyoung’s head into the curve of his neck. It wasn’t long before he felt Youngho’s fingers stroking the back of his head, the soft and silent repetition soothing Doyoung in a way he never expected it to. Only after Doyoung’s sobs quietened down to tiny whimpers then he heard Youngho’s low murmurs, quiet reassurances whispered unto his skin, casting its magic spell on Doyoung. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Doyoung mumbled, voice raspy, “embarrassed, I guess. Sorry about your shirt.”

Youngho chuckled as he pulled away—Doyoung immediately misses the comforting warmth. “Don’t worry about it; it’s Gongmyoung’s anyway,” Youngho quipped, smirking at Doyoung and Doyoung couldn’t help the way the corners of his lips curled up in a watery smile. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Youngho asked, voice low, gingerly getting off his knees to plop himself next to Doyoung. 

Doyoung felt his throat tighten up again even as he choked down a fresh wave of tears. 

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna. But if you, I dunno, need a listening ear or someone to vent to or something,” Youngho trails off, and Doyoung felt more than saw the accompanying shrug of his shoulder. Doyoung still remembers how windy it was out there on the balcony that night, rustling the leaves of their many houseplants. But Youngho was warm and stalwart beside him, encompassing presence reflected in the way their knees just bumped against each other. 

“The moon’s hung pretty low today; it’s pretty,” Youngho murmured, and for the first time that night, Doyoung raises his head to the night sky. He had been so preoccupied with his stupid ex-boyfriend and having his big emotional teenage breakdown from his first heartbreak that honestly most of the day had passed by him in a blur. But now, looking up at the night sky, moon glowing behind wispy clouds, Doyoung is just...tired. Doyoung plonks his head on to Youngho’s shoulder, eyes still on the sky as he lazily traces he way the wind manipulates the clouds to its fancy. The night sky is so vast and infinite, and Doyoung suddenly feels so insignificant and well...silly, really. 

Suddenly his secret heartbreak doesn’t feel as daunting anymore. 

“My boyfriend broke up with me,” Doyoung realizes his slip-up the moment the term slides of his tongue but he trudges forward; it’s too late to backtrack now anyway. “And all the while I thought we were keeping our relationship secret because we weren’t ‘out’ yet, but really, he was just using me to experiment before he decided that no, he is definitely not gay,” Doyoung says, voice taking on a bitter tone, “would’ve been nice to know that I was being regarded as a subject for an experiment before I got emotionally invested, but you know, fuck me, right?” Doyoung spits out. Honestly at this point, Doyoung doesn’t know if he’s moved on from angry-sad to resigned-sad. 

“That sucks,” Youngho sighs out. 

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Doyoung mumbles. 

“Want me to kick his ass? How big is he? I’m sure I’ve got at least a few inches on him. I bet I could take him down with a well aimed punch and roundhouse kick.”

Doyoung laughs and his soul feels lighter for it. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m starting to realize he really wasn’t worth my time. Isn’t worth my time.”

“That’s good. You shouldn’t waste your tears on people who don't matter,” Youngho states, so matter-of-factly that it should sound flippant, but something in his tone and delivery speaks of stoical acceptance that makes Doyoung believe he’s been there and done that. Doyoung’s heart feels warmed. For the first time in months Doyoung doesn’t feel alone; the secrets he’s had to keep had weighed heavier on him than he realized. 

Doyoung shivers when the wind picks up again, and Youngho shifts to pull Doyoung closer to his side, arm across his shoulder and hand warm on Doyoung’s arm. Doyoung hums in thanks — Youngho always ran warm. 

“Does Gongmyoung know? Do your parents?” Youngho asks quietly. 

Doyoung shakes his head forcefully, head finally rising from Youngho’s shoulder, “please don’t tell hyung or my parents!”

“Relax, Dongyoung,” Youngho smiles, reaching over to nudge Doyoung back on to his shoulder, “I would never.”

It’s nice. Just sitting out in the balcony with Youngho; his shoulder is just the right height to lean on, and stuck fast to his side like this, it’s warm and cozy-feeling. He didn’t set out tonight to reveal one of his most closely guarded secrets, a secret that he’s been battling for many years, a secret that, without his knowledge, had nibbled away his insides, rotting him from the inside out. Now he feels...light. 

Youngho lightly squeezes Doyoung’s arm, “you’ll be alright, Dongyoung.”

🐱🐰

Doyoung knew the instant his alarm wrenched him awake this morning that it was going to be a horrible day. He could feel it in the way dread crawled lackadaisically in his veins and bloomed tauntingly in his chest. He tried to reason that it was just any other day, a day not unlike yesterday or tomorrow, but Dread doubled down and made itself a home in between his ribs and try as he might, Doyoung couldn’t shake it off. 

It dissipated for a few moments during lunch time when Youngho sent him a text, asking if he was free for dinner tonight — a restaurant downtown was debuting a new spring menu and had asked if Youngho was interested in trying it out — but Dread had easily waved off any brief excitement Doyoung had, clinging onto him like a heavy, dark shadow, leaving Doyoung to try and cleave his way through its oppressive fog throughout the entire day. 

After an absolutely uneventful day at work, Doyoung keys in the passcode to his apartment, mind already berating himself for making him feel lousy for the entire day for absolutely nothing, when Doyoung sees it. Leather shoes strewn haphazardly in the entryway. Unblemished and positively gleaming under the downlights of his entryway — he always did take particular care of his shoes (unlike his relationships) (Apparently.). Doyoung feels his hackles rise and Dread freeze his lungs, when he rounds the corner to see Him — casually standing in Doyoung’s kitchen, rifling through an open cupboard like he hadn’t taken Doyoung’s heart and stomped all over it before grating it over a microplane and left it to blow away at the wind’s whimsy. 

Doyoung tries to remain calm. Tries to be level headed yet firm. Tries to be assertive yet polite. Tries to be the bigger man when all he wants to do is march right up to him and put all those childhood years he spent watching his dad spar in the ring to good use. Tries to steel his heart and choke down the reactionary hurt and hope that bubbles to the surface. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

"Oh, you're back."

"Oh, I'm back? Oh, I'm back!?" Doyoung can't believe the nerve of this asshole. "Get out of my house right now, before I call the cops.”

“God, Doyoung, stop being so dramatic. I just wanted to grab some of my stuff that I left behind.”

“This is breaking and entering. So I’m telling you one more time, get your fucking ass out of my house.”

“You told me your passcode, Doyoung, this is not break—“

“You weren’t invited, you fuck face! Get the fuck out! Now!”

“God, I forgot how fucking uptight you were,” he has the audacity to roll his eyes as he slams the cupboard door shut, and from there it devolves into a yelling argument that leaves Doyoung rubbed raw. 

He’s proud of himself for not crying during those few minutes when tensions were high, where he could not, for the life of him, fathom how he had managed to survive three years with this man. Could not imagine that once upon a time, not too long ago, he thought he would spend forever with this man. Doyoung doesn’t shed a tear in front of him, stands his ground and yells right back with each hateful word spat out, but once the door bangs behinds him and Doyoung’s house falls deathly silent, Doyoung feels hollowed out. 

Doyoung stands there, alone in his hallway, staring at his closed front door, the one that just slammed shut moments ago. He stands there alone, brimming over with anger, of heartbreak, of loss, of disappointment, of rejection, of grief. Of loneliness. 

The silence only serves to make the hammering of his heart against his rib cage reverberate through his empty house, echoing tauntingly off its bone white walls, ringing in his ears. 

Doyoung finally feels like he can breathe again when he steps on to his balcony. The sharp spring wind whistles as it blows through the crack in the sliding door he’s left ajar, taking with it the sound of Doyoung’s heartbeat ringing in his ears. It’s probably too cold to be outside without his work jacket, but the chill biting his cheeks reminds him that he’s still here, distracts him from overthinking things. He had imagined this moment before; the moment where Doyoung would meet his ex-boyfriend again; a hundred different scenarios, a hundred different things to say, a hundred different versions the same confrontation.

But he never thought to imagine what he would feel after. 

This feeling of emptiness. He had been walking around with a swell of emotions for so long, but now that he’s let everything out, all that he’s left with is a hoarse throat, caved in chest and shrivelled up soul.

“Doyoung?”

Doyoung startles, as if waking from a trance. He had been staring out into the deep velvet night sky for so long, his eyes sting when he turns to glance back at his open balcony door. 

“Youngho hyung?”

“Sorry, I let myself in when you didn’t answer your phone or your door.”

“My phone?” Doyoung looks down as he slides his hands into his pockets only to come up empty. He looks down at his bare hands — he must have thrown it somewhere (or at someone; he can’t really remember now) at some point in time. “Oh. Sorry. I must have left it somewhere.” 

“Are you,” Youngho hesitates at the threshold of the balcony before gingerly stepping in and closing the door behind him, “are you alright?” Another step closer. “You didn’t turn up for dinner.” Another. “I was worried.”

Dinner? “Oh. Dinner. Right. Sorry, it slipped my mind. I’ve been,” Doyoung’s heart caves in on itself all over again, “preoccupied.”

“I see.” Another step and Doyoung can almost touch him, if he just extends his arm out, but his arms feel weighed down; all his limbs do — it’s weird he feels empty and heavy all at once. A contradiction. How odd. 

Another half step. 

“Dongyoung, sweetie, can you look at me please?” Youngho asks slowly, voice low, crouching to try and be eye level with Doyoung. Doyoung’s eyes feel hot. Are eyes supposed to feel hot? His throat suddenly feels too big for him, and he’s pretty sure his hands are shaking. Oh god. His legs are shaking too. God. Oh no. 

“Hey hey hey,” strong arms wrap around his torso, warm, so warm, “it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.“

And that’s when the dam breaks. 

Doyoung’s entire body collapses into Youngho’s arms, but instead of falling, Youngho barely even hesitates before tightening his grip around Doyoung, easily taking on Doyoung’s dead weight without as much as a huff. Doyoung buries his face into Youngho’s warm chest. And for the first time since the breakup, Doyoung cries. 

When Doyoung wakes, he’s in his own bed, covers loose around him. He’s in his sleep clothes, which embarrasses him a little, but his gratefulness at not having to wake up all gross and uncomfortable in his stiff work clothes far outweighs the fact that Youngho had, yet again, needed to help him change out of his clothes. It had been an exhausting night and between relaying last night’s events to Youngho and the continuous waterworks associated with pouring his heart out, Doyoung can hardly even remember if he had brushed his teeth—he licks the back of them—probably not. 

He wonders if Youngho went home. Doyoung sighs, mentally noting to himself to send a text to Youngho, but when he steps out of his bedroom, he spots him on his living room sofa, notes the soft music playing from his phone on the coffee table, sees his brows furrowed as he fiddles on his Macbook. 

“Hyunggggggg,” Doyoung finds himself whining out as he scurries over to bury his face into Youngho’s shoulder. Youngho yelps at the sudden jostling, chuckling as he barely manages to keep his Macbook steady on his lap.

Youngho tilts his head to the side, lightly knocking Doyoung’s in greeting. “Slept well, baby vamp?”

Doyoung nods, rearranging himself so that he’s plastered against Youngho’s side, using him both as a support and heat source. If Youngho minds or notices that Doyoung is being clingier than usual, he doesn’t mention anything, and for that, Doyoung is grateful. 

It’s just, easy, being around Youngho. Maybe it’s because they’ve known each other since they were kids, but there’s a certain comfort with being around Youngho. A comfort that leads Doyoung to wordlessly bump his head into Youngho’s arm, stopping with a content hum only after Youngho takes the hint and tucks Doyoung under his arm.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just editing some photos. I left some take out in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Doyoung hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move from his comfy position. Another thing Doyoung loves about Youngho is that somehow, he quiets Doyoung's mind. Doyoung's just always been so...busy. His thoughts are always running a mile a minute, jumping from one thought to another, taking one thought and running with it to the ends of the earth. Even on weekends, Doyoung's mind is constantly on the move — what groceries does he need to stock up on, the loads of laundry he needs to do and if he needs to drop off anything for dry cleaning, counting off that he's got enough ironed and ready for the week to come, the chores he's yet to complete, the bills that need to be paid this weekend, will he have time to drop by Gongmyoung's to visit, rambling thoughts ad infinitum. 

But here, tucked against Youngho's side, Doyoung's mind is quiet. His mind is calm. Instead of its usual persistent ebb and flow like the waves of an ocean, it’s the crystal clear still waters of a forest creek. He always feels so relaxed and rested in Youngho’s presence. Even if they’ve spent the better part of the weeknight out having dinner at one of restaurants Youngho's recommended, he wakes up the next day feeling refreshed and ready to take on another work day. Before Youngho, Doyoung would have never been comfortable with spending a Saturday morning sprawled across his couch staring unseeingly at a laptop screen, letting the faint rhythmic thump thump of Youngho’s heartbeat lull him somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. 

“Hey, isn’t that my hand?” Doyoung murmurs when his mind finally pieces together what Youngho’s been fiddling with on his Macbook. They are pictures from the dinner they had about a week ago; at a new Greek restaurant a couple of streets down from his office. 

“Yeah, I told you were in my shot,” Youngho chuckles. “You know, apparently you’ve been enough of my shots that people are noticing a new trend. My followers are already placing bets that you’re my new boyfriend and trying to dig up stuff.”

“Seriously?” Youngho’s answering hum sends a zing right down Doyoung’s spine and he barely manages to supress the shiver that induces. “Isn’t that kinda, like, weird?”

Youngho’s fingers still atop the trackpad, “not really? I don’t know, maybe I’m sorta used to it by now. Back in college everyone assumed Gongmyoung and I were dating, even when there were pictures that clearly included his girlfriend. Everyone just jumps to whatever conclusion they wanna arrive at no matter what you say and honestly, I’ve found that as long as I don’t comment on it, people tend to just...forget.” Youngho pauses, “does it bother you? Because I swear, I triple check the photos I post, they never show your face or anything. I even check reflections and all that, I swear.”

“It's okay, I trust you. If you think it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind? If it ever gets too weird, I’ll shut it down, quick smart.”

Doyoung smiles to himself even as Youngho’s fingers go back to flying around his trackpad. It wasn’t a throwaway comment for Doyoung; he really does trust Youngho. Youngho had proven that he could be trusted way back when he didn’t tell Gongmyoung that he was gay and instead offered secret smiles and reassuring squeezes to make sure Doyoung knew he wasn’t alone. Even now, Doyoung’s pretty sure he never told Gongmyoung about the whole...necking...thing. Doyoung can feel his ears grow hot as at the mere thought of That Picture sitting in his phone. God. 

“Okay!” Doyoung jumps up abruptly, pasting a smile on his face and sending Youngho into yet another scramble to save his Macbook from an untimely death, “it’s getting late, huh? I think it’s time for lunch, right?” 

Doyoung looks on as Youngho seems to blanch at his comment. “Oh gosh! Is it really that late already? Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay so late; time just really slipped away from me. I’ll get out of your hair no—“

“Wait, what!? No no no, all I meant is that it’s prolly time to eat, I wasn’t trying to, like, chase you out or anything. You can stay as long as you want! Or not stay at all? I mean, I don’t know,” oh god, stop rambling Doyoung, stop, “you prolly have stuff to do or something so you don’t have to stay? As in, like, I’m not forcing you to stay but I’m definitely not asking you to go. And yeah.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got to edit all these pictures so I should prolly get going anyways. Don’t wanna overstay my welcome and you’ll prolly wanna be alone after la—“

“No!” _I don’t wanna be alone_ , Doyoung gulps. “No, you should stay. If you can, if it doesn’t matter where you work, then stay. I—” _want you to stay_ , “would appreciate the company.”

Youngho looks at Doyoung, really looks at Doyoung, in a way that makes him feel like his thoughts are being read, being heard and being understood. He feels naked under Youngho’s scrutiny, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. 

“Okay. I’ll stay. I’ll stay.”

🐱🐰

Doyoung is running. 

He’s literally running because he’s figuratively running late for brunch with Youngho.

Which number one, Doyoung hasn’t ran since, probably high school when he had to because their gym teacher was glaring at him, and number two, he doesn’t remember ever caring enough to run even if he was late for meetings. But just the thought of Youngho sitting alone in the cafe, waiting for him, makes his legs move faster, fingers moving rapidly across his phone to let Youngho know he’s about five minutes away (three, if his feet keep up this pace).

> _**Vampire Father 🧛:** _
> 
> _no worries! take your time_
> 
> _i’m not going anywhere_

When Doyoung finally steps into the cafe, it’s seconds after a server places two cups in front of Youngho. He beams as he weaves his way across the cafe to the empty seat in front of Youngho. “Sorry, I’m late,” Doyoung huffs as he plops down heavily on to his chair. He had sped-walked all the way from the bus stop, which was more exercise than he’s had for literal weeks. God, maybe Youngho was right; he should really try and exercise more. 

“You’re just in time, actually,” Youngho smiles, gesturing to the drinks in front of them, “they didn’t have your usual so I got you a grapefruit omija tea instead. Hope that’s fancy enough for you?” Youngho giggles. Cute. 

Time passes differently when Doyoung is with Youngho. It flows like a clear and gentle stream as they eat and drink. If you asked Doyoung what they spoke about, he couldn’t even begin to tell you, except that they spoke about everything and nothing all at once. Sometimes they get excited and speak on top and over each other, other times they silently bask in each other’s company. Youngho is, what self-help books would call, an active listener. Doyoung says whatever is on his mind, and feels it returned without judgement — he feels heard and understood and even enjoyed. Like what he says matters. Like he matters. It’s a feeling that Doyoung easily gets lost in, drunk on the steady attention and affection that Youngho so freely offers. 

He doesn’t know when their legs tangle together under the table, but just as naturally as they had woven together, they glide apart when they move to the counter to pay. Youngho, naturally, orders another Americano to go as he hands over his credit card, and for the first time today Doyoung notices the the outfit Youngho’s sporting. Denim on denim has always been a fashion faux pas in Doyoung’s books but somehow Youngho really rocks it, and has he always been this tall? Doyoung is by no means short, so it feels heart-stirringly foreign when Doyoung has to tilt his head up in order to look at Youngho, and have his eyes always been this shade of burnt amber? And honestly, why is there a fucking bear on his cap and why does that make Doyoung’s insides clench in the weirdest of ways?

“Why are you staring at me like that for? Two cups of coffee is a totally legitimate amount for someone my size!”

Doyoung laughs and reaches up to snatch the baseball cap Youngho had on, putting it on himself. “Just wondering how you manage to pass yourself off as a functioning adult.”

Younho scoffs, hands easily reaching out to flip the cap off Doyoung’s head and comb his bangs back, fingers light through his scalp, before replacing the cap on Doyoung’s head, but backwards this time. Youngho grins at Doyoung’s eye roll. “Admit it, baby vamp, you wouldn’t last a day in my life as much as I wouldn’t last a day in yours.”

It only registers after they’ve sat down and Youngho casually asks if he’s been here before. It’s the main reason why they’re out — Youngho had been invited here a few weeks ago to try out their new menu, and he had been so impressed by everything, texting Doyoung the play by play as each dish further blew his tastebuds, that by the end of the night, he had already made reservations for two for their next available weekend, excited to experience it together with Doyoung. 

“Actually yes, technically I’ve been here before, but I’ve never eaten here.”

At Youngho’s quizzical tilt of his head, Doyoung bites his lip, and takes a deep breath in. This was the last place he expected to end up in tonight. “My ex and I, we were supposed to celebrate our third anniversary here, and I remember I kept reminding him not to be late, because you know how popular this place is, and once your reservation time is up, that’s it, right? So yeah, I’ve been here before but technically the only thing I did was get unnecessarily familiar with the sidewalk outside the restaurant.”

Doyoung remembers pacing up and down the sidewalk, dialling and redialling his number when his texts went unanswered. He remembers watching the minutes tick by on his phone and his watch, the half an hour reservation grace period depleting before his very eyes as he’s met with the stupid robot lady asking him to leave a message after the beep. He remembers the pitying gaze of the maître d' as he wore the sidewalk down with every second that ticked by. Remembers the walk of shame and annoyance when he leaves the restaurant, silent phone burning a hole in his pocket. 

Doyoung remembers it all, but he finds himself not caring. Which is a turn of events that Doyoung didn’t see coming but as the saying goes, time heals all wounds, baby. Or something like that. 

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Youngho’s brows furrow in the middle. “I didn’t know. Should we go someplace else? There’s heaps of restaurants round here, I’m sure we can find somethin—“

“No. No need,” their waiter arrives with the bottle of rosé that Youngho had picked out and raises his glass once it’s been filled. “To new and better memories.”

Youngho smiles as he raises his glass in turn, and Doyoung can’t help but return the infectious smile. 

They go toe to toe in glasses of wine, which on hindsight was probably a bad idea on Doyoung’s part since his alcohol tolerance pales in comparison to Youngho’s, but in his defence, the rosé is really good and Youngho’s stupidly long legs have managed to tangle themselves up among Doyoung’s spindly ones again and it feels all cozy and nice and warm and Doyoung is happy (and also probably a little tipsy but definitely not drunk, no siree). 

Doyoung also most definitely does not trip over his own feet when Youngho holds the door open for him as they leave the restaurant. He doesn’t trip, because Youngho is there with a steady arm around his waist. “Come on, buddy,” Youngho chuckles, steadying Doyoung on his feet and making sure he’s got his coat on properly, “I’ll walk you home.”

It’s a nice night out; the streets aren’t deserted but still relatively quiet. It’s a cloudless night and the moon and stars are out, but the streetlights lining their way home drown them out. The air is cool and crisp with the beginning of fall, helping to dispel the artificial warmth that alcohol has brought. His hands though, are cold and beginning to feel numb. He rubs them together, blowing hot air on to them to try and warm them up, while leaning closer to Youngho — he always did run warm. 

“Cold?” Youngho smirks at Doyoung’s responding shiver, “come on, you big baby.” Youngho grabs Doyoung’s hand to interlace their fingers, before tucking their joined hands safely into his jacket pocket. “Let’s walk a little faster and you’ll warm right up,” Youngho squeezes the hand in his, lengthening his strides as he leads them both home. 

By the time they turn on to Doyoung’s street, he’s sober, warm, and the kind of bone-deep content that comes from having had the best day. They’ve been out the entire day, Doyoung realizes; started out when the sun had barely warmed up the pavements, to now when it was close to a brand new day. The exhaustion of having been out the whole day seeps in, but it’s the happy kind of exhaustion — the floaty kind you feel after a day full of smiles and laughs and good food and good fun and great company. 

Even now, Doyoung’s cheeks are hurting from smiling as Youngho recounts an incident from a DJ set that he did a few weeks ago, his baritone voice and infectious chortles echoing off the corridors to his front door. Doyoung reflexively tightens his grip on Youngho’s hand, when he laughs so hard that he doubles over, their tangled hands still snug in Youngho’s pocket. 

“I mean, I feel bad for him, but every time I even think about his face, I crack up.” 

“I’m getting goosebumps just from the second hand embarrassment,” Doyoung slides up the plastic cover to key in the passcode to his apartment. The front door unlocks with a cheerful chirp, “thanks for walking me home, hyung,” Doyoung stands at the threshold of his apartment, turning around to face Youngho. 

“We gotta work on your alcohol intake and tolerance, man,” Youngho laughs, an hand braced against the doorframe. 

“The rosé was just so good! There was no way I was letting you finish it all by yourself!” Doyoung quips, eyes flashing with mirth at Youngho’s mischievous grin. 

“Fine, fine, next time I’ll make sure I pick an average tasting wine, lest you get tempted again,” Youngho chuckles, “sleep well, baby vamp.”

“Night, hyung.”

Doyoung leans up the same time that Youngho leans down, heads tilting naturally as their lips meet in the middle. 

“Night.”

Doyoung smiles, stepping beyond the threshold and lets the door slowly close behind him. 

It’s only after the lock on Doyoung’s door chirps another happy tune signalling his door is secure that the reality of what just happened hits him. He stares blankly at his door because? What the fuck? Did they seriously just? Kiss? They kissed? Outside his apartment? They kissed? Was that a good night kiss? Were they on a date? Have they been dating all this time? Did he seriously just kiss Youngho good night? What the fuck? Doyoung jumps when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows without even seeing who the text is from.

> _**Vampire Father 🧛:** _
> 
> _....did that just happen??_
> 
> I am asking myself the exact same thing. 
> 
> _**Vampire Father 🧛:** _
> 
> _holy_
> 
> _wow i_
> 
> _just_
> 
> _wow_
> 
> I know. 
> 
> I’m a little lost for words too. 
> 
> _**Vampire Father 🧛:** _
> 
> _are you freaking out? i hope you’re not freaking out hahaha_

Doyoung nibbles on his lower lip in thought, staring at Youngho’s texts unblinkingly. Youngho is Gongmyoung’s best friend. Doyoung has known Youngho since even before he had realized he was gay. Youngho has seen him through puberty — teenage acne, thick, geeky glasses, brace face, the works. And he had just causally leaned in to kiss Youngho. On the lips. Oh my god. He should be freaking out. He _should be_ freaking out yet all he’s feeling is a weird sense of excited calm. His hands are shaking and it feels like there are dive-bombing aeronauts in his stomach, but the blood in his veins feel like molten honey, his heart steady and sure. His fingers fly across the keyboard of his phone.

> I am not. 
> 
> Is that weird? I feel like I should be freaking out but I’m not. 
> 
> It felt...definite. 
> 
> _**Vampire Father 🧛:** _
> 
> _definite?? uhmmmm_
> 
> _define definite. like, definitely bad? definitely good?_
> 
> _or definitely should not have happened ever?? hahaha_

Doyoung’s hand flies to his lips at the question. His lips. The lips which kissed Youngho’s lips. And what great lips those were. Soft and plush and velvet and oh so warm—Doyoung really wants to bite down on them and tug on it just right to see what sounds he could wrangle out of Youngho; to see Youngho with kiss swollen lips and be the cause of it. He wants to leave bites and bruises across the expanse of his neck, but this time fully sober so he can actually revel in Youngho’s groans and the taste of his warm skin. He wants Youngho to see those blotches Doyoung’s left on his throat, wants Youngho to think of him when he absentmindedly presses down on them. Oh god, he wants it so fucking bad. What the fuck.

> Definitely good. 
> 
> Like, it was definitely meant to happen, good. 
> 
> Like, I would definitely like it to happen again, good. 

Doyoung startles when his doorbell rings. He swings the door open before he even realizes what he’s doing, and sure enough, Youngho is there, in all his denim on denim glory, bottom lip clamped between his teeth. He pockets his phone, hands trembling. 

Doyoung takes a step forward — close enough for Youngho to know he meant what he said (typed) but far enough keep his dignity intact if Youngho chooses to reject him. His heart races in his chest. 

“Me too,” Youngho whispers, takes a half step forward, makes an aborted move to hold Doyoung’s hand only to wring his hands together nervously. “I would like it to happen again too.”

Courage takes over as Doyoung takes the last half step forward — no turning back now — fingers tug at the hem of his denim jacket, tilts his head up to look into Youngho’s caramel eyes. “Kiss me, hyung.”

A small smile breaks across Youngho’s face before his bottom lip is sucked between his teeth again, thrill and mirth dancing across his face. He moves slow, whether in apprehension or to give time for Doyoung to change his mind, he doesn’t know, but Doyoung is nothing but patient. Doyoung is nothing but sure. 

One of Youngho’s hands reaches for Doyoung’s cheek, cupping it lightly, gently, like Doyoung is something fragile, something precious. His other hand moves to settle on Doyoung’s waist over a few layers of clothes, yet the touch sears right through, brands Doyoung’s skin. He leans over Doyoung slowly, head tilted, eyes darting between Doyoung’s lips and his eyes, leans in and stops just short of Doyoung’s lips, “hi,” he whispers. 

“Hello,” Doyoung murmurs, grin stretching across his face before going up on his tippy toes to finally claim Youngho’s lips again. Youngho leans down further, bringing Doyoung’s feet firmly back to earth, arms now circling his waist to draw him closer, closer; together. Doyoung’s hands fall on Youngho’s chest. He can feel Youngho’s heart humming in his chest under his fingertips, feels it skip a beat when Doyoung nips his bottom lip and his mouth falls open in a soft groan. 

Yes, it definitely feels meant to be. 

🐱🐰

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay with me posting about it?”

Youngho plops onto one of their kitchen stools, topless but with boxer shorts riding up high on his thighs. Youngho’s hair is still wet from the shared shower they took when they came home, and there are beads of water slowly making their way down his bare neck and pooling in the hollow of his collarbones. Doyoung does his best to not get distracted by how much he wants to lick them up and trace over his tendons with his tongue. Youngho’s fingers hover nervously over his phone on the countertop, eyes searching Doyoung’s as his upper incisors dig into his lower lip worriedly. God, Doyoung wants to kiss him so bad. But okay. Ongoing Serious Conversation. Right.

“I really don’t mind, baby, I promise.”

Over the past year or so, Doyoung’s got increasingly better and handling Youngho’s...fame, for lack of a better term. Sometimes they’ll be just trying to pick up some things from the grocery store, but someone will recognize Youngho, and a quick trip will turn into a half an hour affair. Or there are times when they are trying to have a quiet night out, but are hijacked by fans wanting signatures or photos. The worst ones though, are when they might be having brunch, or even just walking to the nearby theatre and there would be people creeping about trying not to make it obvious that they’re secretly taking photos or videos of them.

But Youngho’s always been very ultra protective of Doyoung’s privacy and very understanding of his aversion to getting recognised or being followed. He always makes sure to steer the conversation away from Doyoung, always steps forward to bodily shield him away from curious eyes. In short, Youngho gets it. He cares. And Doyoung knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Youngho would do close to anything to protect Doyoung’s anonymity. 

“I know, I know you don’t mind. But not minding it and not wanting it are kinda like, two different things.”

From anyone else, Doyoung would think they were trying to guilt him into giving consent, but Doyoung knows Youngho is earnest in his concern. Youngho’s entire career hinges around people and connections and _getting his name out there_ ; not to mention he’s generally extremely sociable, friendly, and candid in his interactions with people. And this is a big step for them, so he can understand why Youngho feels like he wants to post about it; wants to tell the whole world about them. Heck, sometimes he himself wants to shout to the world about how much he loves Youngho because he can’t believe how lucky he is to be with someone like him.

“They are,” Doyoung concedes, giving the flowers in the vase a last nudge before making his way into Youngho’s space. With the dexterity that comes with familiarity, Doyoung wordlessly climbs on to Youngho's lap with his ankles crossing snugly behind his back; fingers reaching up to try and rub away the worry from between Youngho’s brows. He leans down to press a chaste kiss on Youngho’s lips, resisting the urge to deepen it and really live up to his ‘baby vamp’ moniker. It doesn’t help when Youngho barely bats an eyelid as he shifts to accomodate Doyoung, one strong arm instinctively coming up to wrap right around his waist, the other guilelessly on his ass, settling Doyoung squarely in his lap. Holding Doyoung close, his arm makes it all the way round to squeeze on the other side of his waist and _god_ , Youngho always has this magical ability to make him feel all small and cute and cherished and _ugh_ Doyoung is so soft for his giant baby.

“But I know you consider your followers part of your life, and they kinda are,” Doyoung sighs and braces his forearms on Youngho, leaning his entire weight on to his sturdy shoulders, making his oversized shirt slip even lower down his neck. Doyoung’s fingers come up to scratch at the soft hairs at the nape of Youngho’s neck. “So I trust you,” Doyoung moves to cup Youngho’s cheek with one hand, thumb grazing the tops of his cheekbones and Youngho doesn’t hesitate in nuzzling into Doyoung’s palm. “If you think it’s okay, then it’s okay. If you want to post about it, then let’s post about it.” 

When Doyoung looks down at Youngho’s face, his breath is taken away yet again by the fondness and _love_ that he can see shimmering in the molten honey of his eyes. It never gets old for Doyoung; the fact that Youngho is so transparent in his feelings for Doyoung. It makes Doyoung feel so treasured and adored, lets him know that Youngho is always going to be in his corner, a dependable presence in his life. He can’t wait to spend the rest of their lives together. 

Youngho must see something in Doyoung’s expression that he likes, because he sighs and presses a feathery kiss into the middle of Doyoung’s palm and pulls him even closer, cradling him to his chest, the hand around his waist sneaking underneath his shirt to rest at the small of his back, thumb caressing the ridges of his spine. Doyoung doesn’t bother suppressing the shiver that it brings. Youngho smiles indulgently, his cheeks lifting upwards and his dimple yawns at Doyoung, “I love you so much, baby.”

Doyoung responds with a grin, leaning down to _finally_ capture Youngho’s plush bottom lip between his, and this time, he wastes no time before licking his mouth open. The softest groan escapes Youngho, the hand on his ass squeezing in the most delicious of ways and Doyoung can’t help the way his cock jerks in his boxers. Hmm, maybe not so guileless after all. Doyoung leaves a trail of shallow wet kisses down his throat, moving to suck bruises across his collarbone. Youngho’s hands slide up underneath his shirt to grip at his waist — like this, Youngho’s large warm hands nearly encompass the entire length and circumference of his torso and waist and god, that’s so hot. Fuck, Youngho is so hot. 

Doyoung circles his hips and grinds down hard, satisfaction thrumming in his veins when he feels Youngho starting to get hard against him, the thin layers of their boxer shorts separating them leaving little to the imagination. Their mouths find each other’s again, Doyoung sucking on Youngho’s tongue and tracing patterns at the back of his teeth. Doyoung lets a hand drop between them, cold fingertips against warm skin as Doyoung traces the planes of Youngho’s abs, feeling the taut muscles beneath flex and shudder under his gossamer touch. He feels Youngho’s heart racing under his fingertips. Racing for Doyoung. Racing because of Doyoung. 

“Take me to bed, baby, wanna ruin you so bad,” Doyoung whispers into his ear, ending with a harsh tug on his lobe, and humming jubilantly at the answering moan and harsh buck of Youngho’s hips. Doyoung tightens his legs around Youngho’s waist as Youngho scoops Doyoung into his arms, big paw hands securely under his bare thighs keeping Doyoung close, nibbling on the skin of his exposed collarbones as he brings them to their bedroom. It’s how easily Youngho manhandles Doyoung that takes his breath away — so much bigger and so much stronger, yet so eager and so responsive to Doyoung’s every beck and call. Doyoung loves it, loves the power Youngho offers him and he’s glad they’ve got the whole night ahead of them so he can take his time to slowly take Youngho apart. 

They’ve got something to celebrate after all, so Instagram will just have to wait for their next status update.

💗🐱💗🐰💗

💗🐱💗🐰💗

**Author's Note:**

> did i spend hours trying to figure out how to photoshop an engagement ring on to johndo’s fabled hand holding picture even though you can hardly see it? yes. was it worth it? YES :D did i also blatantly squeeze in as many real life canon johndo moments as i could? HELL YEAH BABY I WILL NOT BE SHAMED GDI JOHNDOISTS RISE!!!!!!!


End file.
